


I'm Not Ready

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Series: Professor Dean Winchester AU [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, F/M, Mild Language, Professor Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 15:17:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5296319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Are Professor Winchester and the reader ready to take things to the next level?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not Ready

_“Hey, grab my jeans will you?” Dean yelled from the bathroom._

_You fished them out of the pile of clothes on the floor next to your bed, shaking them slightly as you picked them up. A flash of something shiny caught your eye from beneath the edge of his sweatshirt. You knelt on the floor, pushing clothes out of your way, trying to find whatever was on the floor._

_Your fingers closed around a shiny gold and diamond ring. Gingerly, you picked it up, almost as if it was contaminated in some way, and brought it to eye level, staring at it._

_“Holy shit,” you mumbled._

You held the ring in your hand for what felt like an eternity, just looking at it, until you heard the bathroom door open behind you.

“Y/N, did you find them?” Dean asked. “I need to get out of here before someone sees me.” The door clicked shut.

You glanced over your shoulder at the closed bathroom door, picked up Dean’s jeans and shoved the ring back into the pocket. You stood up and hurried across the room. He opened the door just as you got there, wearing just his boxer briefs and his t-shirt. He was drying his hands on a small towel.

“Thanks,” he smiled, taking the jeans from you. “Where did you find that?”

“Wh...what?” you mumbled.

“That?” Dean said, gesturing to your other hand.

You looked at your hand, not quite sure what he meant. It took a second for you to realize what he was talking about, a second to realize that he wasn’t talking about the ring, but instead the sweatshirt you had clutched in your closed fist.

“Um, yeah,” you finally answered after what was probably an extremely long, awkward pause. “I took it out of your closet weeks ago, forgot to put it back. Sorry.” You held it out to him.

“Keep it,” he murmured as he buttoned his jeans. “I like it when you wear it.” He grabbed his shoes and quickly slipped them on, then grabbed his hat and jacket from the back of the chair at your desk. He pulled you into his arms and pressed a warm kiss to your cheek. “I love you, Y/N. I’ll call you later.”

Then he was gone. Your legs seemed to give out and you fell to the end of the bed, your head in your hands. You felt like you were caught in an alternate reality or watching your life unfold on a television show or something. Three months ago you’d been alone and singularly focused on graduating from college. Now you were sitting here wondering when Dean planned on proposing and how it was going to be impossible to tell him no without breaking his heart.

* * *

I managed to make it down the stairs and across campus to the History building without running into anyone I knew. I let myself into the building, the rooms still dark, my bootheels echoing through the quiet halls as I hurried to my classroom. I let myself into my office, left the light off while I stripped off my hat and jacket, then stretched out on the couch. I wasn’t tired, I just needed some time to process what I’d done.

I still couldn’t believe that I’d turned down the job offer from Dick Roman, despite his protests and his attempts to convince me otherwise. I’d walked out of his office with a standing offer should I ever change my mind. And now I was second guessing myself. I loved Y/N, more than I’d ever loved anyone, but it had occurred to me as I snuck out of her dorm that I was deciding my entire future based on the way I felt about her and our relationship. A relationship that we had to keep hidden, which didn’t exactly make it normal. Even if it was normal, we’d only been together for a little over three months. What was I thinking? The last time I’d rushed headlong into a relationship, Bela had broken my heart. And I hadn’t been half as in love with her as I was with Y/N.

I drifted, my eyes closing on their own volition, sleep taking me unexpectedly. I didn’t wake up until there was a quiet knock at my door.

“Professor Winchester?” The door opened a few inches to allow my teaching assistant, Garth, to look in. “You in here?”

“Garth, how many times have I told you not to come in until I actually say “come in?” I muttered, squinting at the light hitting my eyes. I pushed myself up and rubbed a hand over my face. “What is it?”

“There’s someone here to see you,” Garth replied. “He said Mr. Shurley sent him and you would know why he was here.”

I climbed to my feet, my nerves immediately on edge. I thought Chuck had forgotten, but I should have known better. He was very thorough.

“Yeah, um, show him in,” I said. I crossed the room, running my hands through my hair, hoping I didn’t look ridiculous. I had just stepped behind my desk when the door opened and Garth came in, followed by a man who had to be just a few years older than me. He was dressed like a student, jeans and a sweater, even a backpack slung over his shoulder. He pushed past Garth, his hand outstretched.

“Professor Winchester?” he said, a slight smile on his face. “I’m Gabriel, Gabriel Lange. Nice to meet you.”

I shook his proffered hand, then gestured for him to take a seat. “Garth, do you mind getting us some coffee?” I pulled my wallet from my pocket and handed him some money. He nodded helpfully, pulling the door shut behind him as he left.

“Glad to see your choice of teaching assistants has improved,” Lange said.

“I’m sorry?” I said as I took a seat.

“Look, we both know why I’m here,” he replied. “You were screwing around with a student and Chuck’s worried you’ll do it again. Young, attractive college professor who’s really just here to find pretty girls to sleep with him. It’s happened before, it will happen again. You’re not the first professor I’ve had to “independently monitor” due to a “mistake” on his part. I’m sure you won’t be the last.”

Lange’s use of finger quotes was starting to get on my nerves. “I’m sure that’s been true for others, Mr. Lange -”

“Call me Gabe,” he smiled.

“Gabe,” I sighed. “That’s not really the case with me. I’m -”

“Let me guess? You’re in love with what’s-her-name?” Gabe chuckled. “Heard it about a million times. We’re different, we’re special, what we have can’t be matched.” He shook his head, his mouth pursed in disgust. “You’re no different than any other professor I’ve ever dealt with in this situation. You all think you’re in love, you all think you’re special, you all just want to do the right thing. Mr. Shurley, Chuck, seems to think that you’re the exception to the rule, but I’m a bit more jaded. Personally, I don’t think you’re any better or any different than the other jerks I’ve had to deal with. I’m sure you’re still sleeping with this girl and I’m sure you manage to convince yourself every day that keeping your relationship a secret is the best thing for everyone, when, really, it’s just the best thing for you. You’re using that poor girl and the sad thing is, you don’t even realize it. You are jeopardizing both her future and yours. If it were to get out what she has been involved in -”

I heard the threat behind the words. “What are you saying?” I interrupted.

He ignored my question, instead he opened his backpack and pulled out a manila folder, removing a sheet of paper from it. He dropped it to my desk as he rose to his feet. “Here’s a schedule of when I’ll be monitoring your class for the rest of the semester.” He smiled at me, shaking his head. “I suggest you reevaluate your situation, Professor Winchester. Take a long, hard look at what you’re doing. You might not like what you see.” He crossed the room and pulled open the office door, striding confidently out, leaving me staring after him.

* * *

The rest of the day went by in a blur. You went through the motions - work, school, even your study group - without really realizing what you were doing. Your mind was elsewhere and you couldn’t concentrate on anything.

You still weren’t sure how to deal with the sudden appearance of an engagement ring. It had never occurred to you that Dean might be considering marriage. Maybe it was your age or the fact that the relationship was too new, or a million other things, but marriage wasn’t even on your radar and you hadn’t thought it was on Dean’s either. But apparently you were wrong.

By the time you left the library, with no memory of what had been discussed in your study group, you were completely on edge and utterly unsure what to do. You wanted to talk to Dean, but you also wanted to run and hide somewhere. You loved Dean, God knew you did, but you were not ready to get married. Or engaged. It was just too soon.

You were halfway across the common, head down and hands stuffed in your pockets trying to keep warm when your phone rang. You pulled it free, not surprised to see that it was Dean. You hesitated, long enough for it to be too long, the vibration stopping as your voicemail picked up. You considered calling him back, but you weren’t quite sure what you would say. You weren’t done mulling over the situation with the ring.

You let yourself into your dorm room and tossed your books to the floor. You resisted the urge to kick them. You threw yourself into the chair, put your head back and closed your eyes. You pulled your phone from the pocket of the jacket you were still wearing, holding it loosely in one hand. You needed to return Dean’s call.

The walk home from the library had managed to clear your head. Dean was a reasonable person who had a good head on his shoulders. You just needed to talk to him, explain that you’d found the ring and while you loved him and appreciated the gesture, you just weren’t ready for marriage. Especially when the two of you hadn’t even taken the relationship public and God only knew when you would be able to. He would understand.

You finally opened your eyes and swiped a finger across the screen on your phone, surprised to see that Dean hadn’t left a voicemail. He always left a voicemail, even if it was just to remind you that he loved you.

Your finger hovered over the send button, but you hesitated, not wanting to talk about something so serious over the phone. You wanted to talk to him in person, so you could see him, so there was no chance of any miscommunication or hurt feelings because of a misinterpreted comment or word. You checked the time in the corner of your phone, though you already knew it was late and you were exhausted. This was a conversation best saved for when you were wide awake and firing on all cylinders. So instead of calling, you opted for a text.

_“Missed you today. Call me tomorrow, I need to see you. I love you.”_

You held your phone in your hand, waiting for the return text. It came just a few minutes later.

_"Will you meet me at my office at 8 tomorrow morning?"_

You responded, agreeing to be there. You waited a few minutes for an additional text, but there was nothing else, which struck you as odd. The two of you would often text for hours. Figuring he had probably gone to sleep, you set your phone on the table and rose to your feet. Sleep seemed like a great idea and was exactly what you needed.

* * *

 

I set my phone on the table after reading Y/N’s response, though I saw my phone light up again seconds later and heard the distinctive sound of an incoming text message, but instead of picking it up like I normally would to respond, I took another swallow of my beer, wondering for the fourth or fifth time that night why I wasn’t drinking something stronger.

The reason I wasn’t drunk off my ass right now spoke up from the armchair across the room. “You going to answer that?” Sam asked.

I shook my head, staring over his shoulder at the fireplace behind him. “I said what I needed to. I’ll see her in the morning.”

Sam shrugged and took a drink of his own beer. If it wasn’t for him, I  would be drinking the hard stuff. In fact, I’d been well on my way to getting drunk when he’d found me in the bar his current girlfriend worked at and he’d encouraged me to go home, offering to accompany me. My opinion was that he felt the need to babysit me, not keep me company. Whatever made him feel better.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“How many times are you going to ask me that question?” I mumbled.

“As many times as it takes to convince you that you’re crazy,” he replied. “I’m not sure you’ve thought this through.”

“It’s all I’ve thought about all day,” I said. “I have to do this. It’s the right thing to do."

“Dean -” Sam muttered.

I could hear the argument in the tone of his voice, I could guess everything he was going to say, and every argument he was going to give I’d already had with myself. Every pro, every con, all of them I’d examined inside and out. I was going to do it, I’d already made up my mind.

“Hey, Sam, you know what?” I interrupted him.

“Yeah?” he sighed.

“Do me a favor and just be my friend, okay?” I asked. “That’s what I need now.”

“Yeah, sorry,” he mumbled, running his hand through his hair. “Whatever you need, you know I’m here for you. You’d do the same for me. Shit, you have done the same for me.”

I nodded my thanks and took another drink from my beer. I could always count on Sam.

* * *

It was cold, frost covering the ground, when you slipped out of your dorm room and made your way to the History building. Not for the first time, you wished that it wasn’t on the opposite side of the campus. You pulled open the side door, the one Dean always left unlocked for you, and hurried through the building to his classroom. It was dark, but the light in his office was on. You made your way down the stairs and knocked quietly on the door.

Dean was sitting on the couch, a book in his hand. There was a bag on the table from the bagel place near his house, as well as two large cups of coffee. He looked up and smiled at you when you knocked, dropped the book to the floor beside several other books and gestured for you to come in.

“Hey,” he said, patting the couch beside him. “I got bagels.”

You dropped your jacket onto one of the chairs in front of his desk before perching on the edge of the couch next to him. “Did you get the one I like?” you asked. “The one with the cheese?” You grabbed one of the bags and began digging through it.

“Of course,” he laughed, but for some reason it sounded forced and almost fake.

You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until you sat down. You’d barely eaten the day before and you hadn’t eaten anything this morning. You took a bagel from the bag, slathered it with cream cheese and took a huge bite, sighing in satisfaction. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dean smile and shake his head.

“What?” you mumbled around the food in your mouth.

“You’re cute when you’re hungry,” he said, grinning wider when you took another bite. He shook his head again, reached over and wiped at the corner of your mouth with his thumb. He brought the thumb to his mouth and licked off a small dab of cream cheese, then he leaned over and brushed a soft kiss your lips. He slid his arm around your waist and rested his forehead against your temple.

“You know how much I love you, right?” he murmured.

“Yes,” you replied. “Of course I do.”

Dean laced his fingers through yours, holding your hand tightly in his. He took a deep breath and you felt him tremble slightly against your side. Your heart skipped a beat and you knew, _knew_ , that he was going to propose. It explained last night’s weird text message, your favorite bagels and how he just didn’t seem to be acting like himself.

“Dean...I…” you mumbled, unable to get out a coherent sentence. “Wh...what are you doing? I’m...I’m not sure we’re ready -”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he cut you off. “About our relationship and what it means for both of us, about how hard it is to keep it under wraps, about the decisions we’ve both made over the last few months based on our feelings for each other. I’m starting to wonder if I’m doing you more harm than good, if my intentions with you aren’t what I’ve always believed them to be. I always thought I had your best interests in mind, always thought that I was doing right by you. But the more I look at it, the more I’ve come to realize that I’m doing you a disservice, that I’m being selfish asking you to live a lie. I can’t do that anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” you muttered, pulling away from him so you could look into his eyes, so you could try to understand what he was saying. Because this sure the hell didn’t sound like any proposal you’d ever heard.

“I love you, Y/N, you know that I do. But right now, I think it might be best for both of us if we took a break for a while.” He rubbed a hand over his face, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor. “I need to reevaluate some of the choices I’ve made recently and I think that -”

“Is this about that job offer?” you blurted. “Because if it is, we can figure it out. I can transfer, or maybe you could work from here until I’m done with school, or something. I’m sorry I wasn’t supportive at first, but I can work on it, help you figure it out.”

“It’s not about the job offer,” Dean sighed. “It’s about a lot of things. It’s about me being selfish and asking you to hide our relationship, it’s about you losing friends -”

“Jo?” you laughed. “Please! Jo was never my friend. Not when she could do what she did.”

“It’s not just Jo,” he shook his head. “I can’t remember the last time you even mentioned seeing one of your friends, or going out and doing anything besides sitting around and waiting for me. I’m taking your life away from you. I’m hurting you by loving you.”

Frustration with what Dean was saying pushed you to your feet. You paced in front of his desk, trying to comprehend the words coming out of his mouth. “You’re not taking my life away from me. You are my life. I love you!”

“And therein lies the problem, Y/N,” he said, far too calmly. “I...scratch that... _we_ , need to take some time away from each other, make sure this is really what we want. Come back to this when it’s the right time for both of us.”

You felt the tears prickling behind your eyes and you knew there was nothing you could do to stop them. The first of many slid down your cheek as you stared at Dean. “I...just...I don’t understand,” you whispered, defeated. “You’re breaking up with me? You love me, but you’re breaking up with me?”

“I think it’s the best thing for us,” Dean said. “Just until things are different, or, I don’t know -”

“Why do you get to decide what’s the best thing for me?” you shouted. “Why don’t I get a say in this? Why don’t I get to say that it doesn’t matter to me that I’ve had to keep our relationship a secret, or that I’m completely fine with keeping it a secret until the day I graduate? I don’t think you’re being selfish, I don’t think you’re hurting me by asking me to keep our relationship quiet. You’re hurting me by pushing me away even though you love me. You’re hurting me by not being willing to fight for us, to make it work no matter what we have to do.”

“This is working for you?” Dean laughed cynically. “Hiding how we feel about each other is working for you? Bullshit.”

You swiped a hand over your face to clear away the tears, to no avail. “This is not how I expected this morning to go,” you mumbled.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Dean asked.

“I found the ring, Dean,” you snapped. “The engagement ring. In your pocket. I thought you were going to propose. Instead you’re pushing me away.” You choked back a sob. “So, yeah. Definitely not how I thought this morning was going to go.”

“Would you have said yes?” he said so quietly you almost didn’t hear him.

You stared at him blankly. “What?”

“Would you have said yes?” he repeated.

“I...I...uh,” you stammered.

“Answer me, Y/N!” Dean ordered in the voice you’d come to think of as his teacher voice. It left no room for argument. “Are you telling me that if I had proposed just now you would have leapt into my arms, screaming yes?”

You blew out a shaky breath. “No,” you finally answered. “I would have said no. I...I don’t think we’re ready. It’s too soon. And -” You tried to swallow past the lump in your throat. “And since the relationship is still a secret how could we possibly be ready for marriage?”

Dean nodded, his jaw clenching noticeably in irritation. “I don’t want to keep the relationship a secret any longer. But unfortunately, the choice is not mine, or yours, to make. Not with both of our futures on the line. Until things change, I think it is best for both of us if we take a break. I love you, Y/N, I really do. But this is the smartest course of action.” He clenched his hands together and stared at the floor.

You stood in the center of his office, dumbfounded, the silence in the room suffocating you. You turned on your heel, picked up your jacket and walked to the door. You turned back, hoping against hope that Dean would be crossing the room to stop you, but he was in the same position, sitting on that damn plaid couch, his eyes on the floor. As you turned to leave, you caught a glimpse of a tear sliding down his cheek.

 


End file.
